Before you read this next chapter, I just wanted to make something clear. In the prologue I mentioned Jane being wanted for attempted murder. I was referring to Edwin Flagg, whom Jane almost ran down with her car in the book. In this chapter the Hudsons' home street is mentioned, and although I know the movie was filmed on South McCadden Place and the radio reporter in the film said North McCadden Place, I'm using the original street from the book. Their telephone number also varies. Elvira the maid was called Edna in the book, and the Hudsons' car was grey.
Blanche didn't dare ask how long she'd been in the hospital when they told her she could finally go home. It had been nice to have someone care for her, to not have to worry about her life for a while. But facing the reality now, Blanche felt terrified of it and of the future.
She'd been dreaming about making a new life for herself before Jane had gotten worse for the last time. She'd been planning to sell the house she had to return to now. Without Jane and without Edna she found herself feeling utterly helpless. She couldn't get through her daily life without help. She needed someone to help her, but it made her feel sick when she thought of having to meet people—strangers—and ask them for it.
Her chair came to a slow stop at the grey coupé someone had brought back from the beach. Blanche reached over her shoulder and caught a soft and wrinkled hand in her own. The woman walked around her, and Blanche looked up at her.
"Thank you, nurse Merrick," she said, giving a radiant and grateful smile, "for everything."
Nurse Merrick returned the smile. "You're welcome, Miss Hudson. I wish you every happiness."
She tried to help Blanche as she pushed herself out of the wheel chair and swung herself to the car seat, but her patient was recovered now. The effort didn't even upset her breathing.
Blanche dropped her hand in her lap after waving goodbye to nurse Merrick, and proceeded to look out of the window until the hospital disappeared from view. And then the unpleasant feeling of pressing urgency returned.
"Excuse me," she caught the attention of the man in the driver's seat. He was a kind-looking man in his thirties, with big bright eyes and a small wry smile. He'd been appointed by the hospital to take Blanche home and help her around the house for a few days, until she could find someone for herself.
"Yes, Miss Hudson?" he replied, looking at Blanche in the rear view mirror.
"Could you make a stop at the newspaper, please?" Blanche asked with sudden decisiveness. The idea had struck her only a moment earlier, and already it seemed like the only right one.
"Of course." The driver returned his attention to the road. "Although there were today's newspapers at the hospital. You could have asked for them."
Blanche pressed her hands together in her lap, for some odd reason, feeling slightly hot. Maybe it was because she hadn't been alone with a man who wasn't a doctor in nearly twenty years.
"I know… No, I..." Suddenly, she felt so silly that she could almost feel her face turning red. "I meant to put an advertisement in the paper," she breathed quickly.
"Oh," the man said apologetically. "Of course, I should have known." Looking at the now visibly uncomfortable woman in the mirror, he smiled again. "Is something the matter, Miss Hudson?"
Blanche looked up with a sheepish question in her eyes. "I'm sorry but… I seem to have forgotten your name." She felt so embarrassed she wanted to hide her face in her hands and never reveal it to the driver again. His warm gaze, however, prevented her from doing so.
The man chuckled in a friendly manner. It made small wrinkles appear at the outer ends of his eyes, and Blanche found it completely adorable. "It's Gerald. Gerald Henryson. And it's all right, Miss." He sent Blanche another encouraging smile before returning to the traffic.
In the back seat Blanche let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. It was as if she had forgotten how to speak without the constant fear of Jane lurking somewhere close-by and listening in.
Thinking ahead, Blanche was rather terrified of going back home. She didn't want to recall the memories of her last couple of weeks there, and she certainly didn't want to start missing Jane even more than she already did.
The building they entered smelled of ink, smoke and machine oil. Blanche caught herself frowning at the ugly rug at the counter. She wondered briefly if Jane had come here to place her ad that had brought Edwin to their house.
Gerald pulled her chair to a stop in front of the counter, just far enough, so that Blanche could see the man at the other side of it.
"Yes?" asked the man, grabbing a pen from behind his ear, and leaning forward to get a better glimpse of his client.
"Good afternoon," Blanche replied politely, but realized only now that she had forgotten to make up the ad in her mind. "I would like to place an advertisement in the paper." She tried not to react to the newspaperman's stunned expression. Instead she looked up at him in innocent enquiry, waiting for a reply.
"Oh yes!" the man responded after another moment of silent staring. "Have you got it written down or…?"
"No, I actually just had the idea," Blanche said thinly. "I was rather hoping you could… Well, write it down for me yourself."
"Sure, miss." The man reached for a paper, keeping his eyes on Blanche. "Who's placing the ad?"
"Well, I am," Blanche answered automatically. Then, lowering her head to hide the embarrassed blush creeping up her neck, she spoke quietly, "I'm sorry. My name is Blanche Hudson."
She had thought she'd said the name silently enough for it to have been hard for Gerald to hear her, even if he'd listened very closely. Apparently, she had been wrong, as several heads turned in her direction and began staring in mute wonder. It made Blanche feel awfully uncomfortable, even slightly panicky. She had no idea how much the people knew about what had happened. All she knew was that they'd been in the papers—Jane and her both. But did they know how it had all ended? Did they know about Edna?
The man scribbled down her name without sparing a look at the paper. "And what did you want to advertise for?" he spoke with poorly hidden eagerness.
"I'm looking for a new maid," Blanche said, making an effort to keep her voice down. The only problem was that everyone in the room had stopped talking by now, and were staring unwaveringly at the crippled woman in front of the counter.
"She should be able to come and live with me, to help me around the house and all..." Her voice trailed off as she figured it wouldn't do to describe her maid's duties any further, not with the whole ground floor listening.
"Of course," the man behind the counter came to her aid quickly. "I understand. And where should the interested parties call?"
Relieved to have been asked a question she knew exactly the answer to, Blanche straightened up. "HO-6-1784," she beamed. The newspaperman wrote down the number, read it aloud and was satisfied when he received an agreeing nod from Blanche.
As he resumed writing down her request, Blanche suddenly became chillingly aware of the fact that she had been brought in and out of the hospital with bare hands; she didn't even have her chequebook with her, never mind cash. A sickening feeling of alarm filled her as she set about to prepare herself for the embarrassment of having to leave here without settling what she'd come for.
But when the man raised his head again and turned his expectant look upon Blanche, she was suddenly shielded from his view by a figure approaching the counter.
"How much will that be?"
"Gerald..." Blanche whispered in a tone of urgent secretiveness. But Gerald didn't pay her any mind, and handed the stunned man on the other side of the counter the sum he'd bashfully asked for.
"Gerald," Blanche spoke carefully when the driver had closed the door. Innocently, he looked up at her in the mirror. "You really oughtn't have done that."
Gerald's eyes turned into decidedly firm steel. "Well, I wasn't going to let you be embarrassed, Miss Hudson," he said in a clear caring tone.
Averting her eyes, Blanche found it hard to answer that at first. Her look firmly fixed upon the suddenly particularly interesting skin on the back of her hand, she finally managed a wavering smile. "Thank you. Of course, you will get it all back in your paycheck."
The car sped down the boulevard, towards Hillside Terrace.